Introductions: Witwickys
by Botosphere
Summary: Part of Eowyn77's Introductions series. After Mission City, the Witwickys deserve an explanation and, God help them, they're going to get one.


A/N (Eowyn77): Because Marinelife37 asked nicely, here's the Autobots' introduction to the Witwickys. :)

**_TIE IN: _**This fic ties in with chapter 2 of _The Daily Buzz._

* * *

Sam didn't answer when I called up the stairs to his bedroom. His father would be home any minute, and Sam had insisted we clear our schedule for this evening. I had a feeling it had something to do with the insanity of the last several weeks, but my son had refused us to tell us anything except that we'd understand eventually.

I looked all through the house and then finally found him standing in our empty garage. I should have thought to check there first. He spent a lot of time there, looking so forlorn that it broke my heart. Those governmental creeps had stolen my boy's car along with ripping up my flowers and kidnapping us. If I ever saw their leader's smug face again, I _would_ beat his head in with a bat, loaded weapons or not. I'd mentioned buying him another car, but he said he didn't want one.

"What is going on, Sam?" I asked for the fiftieth time. Ever since the raid by those mysterious Sector Seven people, I had a decided aversion to surprises.

"You'll see, Mom. It's easier to show you than to try to explain." Reading my expression, he added, "It's nothing _bad_. We'll go out to dinner afterward. I promise. You and Dad get to choose where. Our ride will be picking us up as soon as Dad gets home from work."

Sure enough, as soon as Ron's car pulled into the driveway, an ominous-looking monster of a black pick-up pulled up to the curb. My husband had just enough time to walk through the back door before there was a knock on the front one.

Sharing a nervous look with me, Ron took a deep breath and opened the door. An athletic-looking man with black hair and a healing scrape on his cheek stood on our front porch. He was dressed casually – a green button-down with khaki's – but something about his stance made me think he was military.

Sam was instantly beside Ron. "Mom, Dad, this is Major William Lennox." Without waiting for either of us to say anything, Sam waved the stranger into the house.

"Mr. and Mrs. Witwicky," he began, and I was surprised he actually got the name right. "It's an honor to meet you. You have a remarkable son, as you'll come to understand better this evening."

"What is going on?" I demanded for the fifty-first time.

"My team and I were part of the group that pulled Sam and Mikaela out of Sector Seven."

"A critical part," Sam added.

"You are long overdue for an explanation of everything your family has been through, and it is my honor to give you one tonight."

I looked from him to Sam. My son's expression was pleading, and I gave him a grudging nod. Yes, we would hear him out.

"I'll have you know, I've been speaking with my lawyer," Ron threatened, and I whacked his shoulder with my hand.

"I understand, sir. That is part of why you received security clearance for the information you're about to receive. Now, Mr. and Mrs. Witwicky, will you come with me?"

Taking a deep breath, I fell in step with Sam, leaving Ron gaping like a goldfish behind me.

He hurried to catch up, pulling his phone out of his pocket, his expression belligerent. "I don't suppose you'd mind if I called my lawyer to tell him your name and that we're leaving with you right now?"

"By all means," Major Lennox respectfully answered. "Though you might prefer to use my cell phone." At Ron's suspicious glare, the Major added, "That way your lawyer will know _my_ phone number, too."

Ron snatched the phone out of his hand and quickly made the call. "Yeah," Sam grumbled under his breath. "Make sure he knows your curfew is 11 PM and that you'll be grounded if you're late, even _if_ the sky is falling and it's only three minutes after."

Sam opened the back door of the truck and climbed into the seat with easy familiarity. Whoever this stranger was, my son trusted him. Still, I slid into the back seat with him rather than sit up front. The long hours we'd spent separated from each other in those goons' hands still haunted me, and I wanted to be close to Sam in case there was trouble.

Ron threw a quizzical glance at me, no doubt wondering about the seating arrangement. "You ride shotgun," I insisted.

Beside me, Sam coughed. He met the Major's gaze in the rearview mirror, and though his expression didn't change, I swear the man's eyes sparkled with humor. There must be some inside joke I missed.

We pulled away from the curb and rode in uneasy silence for a minute or two, turning onto the highway headed out of town.

"So," Ron began. "What branch of the military are you with?"

"Currently, I'm on a special ops team that coordinates with all military branches."

"You didn't answer the question," Ron pointed out.

"Yes, he did," Sam protested.

"No, he didn't! He could be any nut with a gun and a fake badge for all I know."

"Oh, for Pete's sake," I scolded. "Stop badgering the man. Before he has to trot out some line about how he could tell us but then he'd have to kill us."

"Army," Major Lennox answered curtly.

Again we lapsed into silence.

"So," I said, trying to find a less tense topic of conversation. "This is a really nice truck. Is it yours?"

The engine coughed, making the frame shudder.

"No," he answered, glancing at me in the rearview mirror. He looked a little more relaxed. "Not really. Technically I suppose you could consider it government-issue."

"It has a mind of its own," Sam said almost…fondly. "Kind of like my car."

Ron looked back at me with worry plain on his face. "The one you nicknamed Satan's Camaro?"

Major Lennox half-laughed. "You seriously called him that?"

Sam was stunned. "How…?"

"Miles told us," I answered. "We called him when you disappeared the day after the car was stolen and you didn't answer your cell phone."

"Right after I had to go bail your butt out of jail," Ron grumbled.

"Ron," I warned.

"What? It's true!"

"Do you _have_ to broadcast to the world that our son is a jailbird?"

"Mom, I am not a jailbird!"

Major Lennox fought to keep a straight face. We paused at a four-way stop and the truck seemed to idle really hard – the whole thing was shaking. I looked out the window, noticing our surroundings. We were in the middle of nowhere, and I wondered briefly where the Major was taking us.

"Well at least the drug tests came back negative," Ron said, trying to smooth Sam's ruffled feathers.

He hid his face in his hands for a second. "Can we please just talk about something else?"

Silence. Long, uncomfortable silence.

"So how's Mikaela?" I tried again.

Sam blushed. My boy, in love! "She's doing really well. She'll be here tonight."

That brightened my outlook considerably. "She's coming to dinner with us, too, isn't she?"

"Of course," the Major said. "If you still want her along."

"Why wouldn't we?"

He hesitated a moment before answering. "You will learn a lot of things tonight, and you might want some time to process everything. You know, talk about it as a family. Mikaela has the same level of clearance as you do, though, and you're welcome to discuss anything you want with her, too."

"She knows all about whatever's going on here?" Ron demanded, looking at Major Lennox again.

"We were together the whole time," Sam reminded us. "She knows everything I do."

It was my turn to be annoyed. "And no one thought to tell _us_? His _parents_?"

Major Lennox cleared his throat. "That's why you're here now."

"After I got a lawyer," Ron grumbled.

"After you got security clearance," the Major corrected.

"After you kept freaking out," Sam added.

"Boys!" I exclaimed. Even the Major had the good grace to look appropriately shame faced.

We turned off the highway into a rugged canyon with a "No Trespassing" sign and an Army insignia. Well, as least the nut with a gun had a legitimate badge this time.

After going through a check-point, we pulled into a clearing with several other vehicles. A dark-skinned man in Army fatigues stood at ease in front of a large semi-truck. A lovely blonde stepped out of a Search and Rescue vehicle and stood hesitantly in front of it. Mikaela, sitting on the hood of a bright yellow sports car, hopped to her feet and waved hello to us.

Seeing her lightly trot over to us and hug Sam all but set me glowing. Whatever was going on here, Sam was happier for it.

They shared some kind of significant glance and then, taking a deep breath, Sam turned to us. "Mom, Dad. There's something I need to tell you."

"Well I gathered that," I couldn't help saying. "Just spit it out already. If it's not bad, then why all the cloak and dagger?"

"Because it tends to be a bit of a shock," the blonde woman said in softly-accented tones as she stepped closer.

"Who are you?" Ron rudely blurted out, and I smacked his shoulder again.

"Maggie. Maggie Madsen," she answered extending her hand. "I'm with military intelligence."

"A blonde with military intelligence," Ron muttered. "Is there a punchline here?"

We were in public, so I did nothing more than glower sternly at him, but Maggie didn't seem to hear or mind the jab.

"Maybe we should just make the introductions and take it from there," Major Lennox suggested, and Sam nodded. The Major waved the other military man closer.

"This is Sergeant Epps," Sam said, and the man shook hands with both of us.

"Chief Master Sergeant," Lennox corrected.

"Nice to meet you," I automatically answered.

Chief Master Sergeant Epps smartly nodded in acknowledgement.

"And this is Bumblebee," Sam said, gesturing to the yellow car again.

I followed his gaze, expecting someone to get out of the car. Instead, the car began to move. Break apart. I took an involuntary step back as the machine buckled in the middle and then unfolded upwards. Gears whirred and I watched with boggling eyes as the machine took on a new, vaguely human shape. Arms, hands, legs, feet, head, _eyes_…

"Remember when I told the police my car transformed?" Sam said softly.

I nodded, physically incapably of tearing my eyes away from the _thing_ in front of me.

"Well, this is him."

"Uh-uh," Ron protested, sounding as frightened as I felt. "Your car was old, Sam. This couldn't possibly be – "

"That piece of crap Camaro?" Mikaela interjected, laughter in her voice. "You think a robot that can change its shape like that can't change the exterior, too?"

The mechanical monster crouched down on all fours, his blue eyes almost soft in expression.

"He really is my car," Sam said. "And he's coming back home with me."

"WHAT?!" Ron exclaimed the same time I yelled, "Sam!"

"You can't…" I stuttered, my words trailing away helplessly as I looked at the pleading eyes of the thing.

Ron finished my thought. "You can't just bring home a monster Army robot like he's some kind of puppy."

"He's not an Army – " Mikaela began, but Major Lennox interrupted her. "Sam, let's continue the introductions and then we can all talk about this."

The monster in front of me rose to his feet and moved back to stand at the edge of the clearing.

I looked uneasily around at the other two vehicles and then whirled on the truck we'd driven here in. And I'd thought it was a monster _before_ I'd seen this bee-car-thing transform.

"You're right, Major," Sam said softly. "Mom, Dad. I'd like you to meet Optimus Prime."

The semi rolled forward a little and slowly opened up, unfolding and whirring and clicking. If the yellow machine was a monster, I had no words to describe the towering thing in front of me. He was easily twice as tall and his stance was defiant with his hands on his hips. Or where hips would be on a human, anyway.

I took a shaky breath.

"Greetings," the machine said solemnly. His deep, rumbling voice somehow reminded me of my grandfather back when he was the strongest and wisest person in my world. I wondered vaguely how I was supposed to greet him in return. Shake a fender?

"I am the leader of the Autobots," he continued, gesturing to the other vehicles. Mercifully none of them moved, not even Sam's pet bee thingy. I wasn't sure how much more my nerves could handle. "We come from the planet Cyberton. An object of great power crashed here, and we came to retrieve it. We mean no harm to you or anyone else."

"What object?" Ron asked.

"That's above your security clearance," the blonde woman answered. I remembered that her name was Maggie.

Sam leaned closer to us, but his gaze was still on the giant. "Remember the terrorist attack in Mission City?"

"You did that?" I whispered in horror to the monster.

"No," he answered emphatically. Then more softly, he continued, "And yes. We were there to defend the city from our enemies, the Decepticons. The damage was caused by that battle."

"And remember the earthquake the night Sector Seven showed up?" Sam prompted.

I stood slack-jawed, not caring that I must look like an idiot. They'd overheard us talking about Sam's happy time, too.

Ron recovered first. "You? _YOU_ were the one who demolished my yard?!"

"My apologies," the machine rumbled politely.

Major Lennox turned to us. "My superiors have authorized government funds be used to repair any damage you might have sustained."

Ron was turning the color of the semi's paint job. "You're trying to bribe me with_ landscaping_ to keep me quiet?"

"Oh, for heaven's sakes, Ron..."

The giant machine cut us both off. "You must do what you deem honorable, Ronald Witwicky. But I ask you to consider your son. His bravery saved your planet and my life. If our story is told, so will his be. What future do you think he will have in your world if our friendship is revealed?"

Saved the planet? Friendship? I looked at Sam, but his eyes were locked with his father. "They _are_ my friends, Dad. All of them have taken bullets for me. And cannon rounds."

I winced to realize all those had been directed at my son. "Friends," I repeated weakly, looking at the vehicles – aliens – around us again.

Sam saw the chink in my armor and took advantage of it. "Especially Bumblebee. He's my guardian. The Decepticons were here before the Autobots. They're the ones who destroyed that military base in the Middle East. And they came after me. Bumblebee was the only Autobot on the planet then and he protected me."

I looked at the yellow machine – Bumblebee – with new eyes. He nodded in confirmation, and a sugary-sweet girl's voice said, "So…can we keep 'em?"

"He talks through the radio," Sam explained.

"My weapons specialist," the machine leader said, gesturing directly toward us. I turned, stepping backward again, as the pickup transformed. It looked much more monstrous than the other two, with imposing, glowing weapons on its arms.

"This is Ironhide," Sam said by way of introductions.

"At the request of your son, I shall not demonstrate or show off my cannons in any way."

"Thanks," Sam mouthed.

Again, I was speechless. And that's no small feat.

Sam was grinning now. "And last but not least, Ratchet, their chief medical officer."

The Search and Rescue vehicle split open, whirring and clicking, and another large machine rose to his feet. It was roughly the same size as the brute with the cannons beside me, but seemed much gentler in appearance. "It is an honor to meet you both."

Maggie, the chatty blonde one, broke the awed silence. "So," she said, rubbing her hands together in anticipation. "The introductions have all been made. I expect you have a few questions for us?"


End file.
